


Echolocation

by beautyqueenforbes



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bad Puns, Domestic Fluff, Excessive Worldbuilding for a Oneshot, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Profanity, Swearing, Truly Cringeworthy Puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 21:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13983852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautyqueenforbes/pseuds/beautyqueenforbes
Summary: Negan doesn't properly appreciate your humor.





	Echolocation

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little something to commemorate the launch of my blog, writingnegan, which I’m extremely excited about. This is based on a joke I actually tried to make, and I maintain that it’s hilarious. Everybody else maintains that it’s not.

“Sit with me, doll.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, breaking your composure in spite of yourself. You’d been Negan’s wife for just under a month now, but you had become close with him in a truly unprecedented manner. It had started with you dozing off after sex, and for some reason, he had been loathe to wake you. You had awoken the next morning with your legs tangled in his; it had been the first time he had allowed one of his wives to spend the night, a privilege that implicitly became yours and yours alone. Since then, not only had you shared most of your nights with Negan, you spent your days at his side. On the off chance you weren’t with him, Negan sought you out, requesting your company while he toiled away at even the most mundane tasks, like poring over inventory logs.

You flounced to the dark leather sofa where he sat, taking your place on the couch cushion beside him. He frowned, almost imperceptibly, having expected you to sit in his lap. However, his disappointment did not last long, as you swung your legs across his lap instead, and he took hold of your ankles, gently pulling you closer until the back of your thighs pressed cozily against his leather-clad hip.

Negan had just come back from a particularly nasty run, having encountered issues with the compliance of the community responsible for massacring the Saviors stationed at the satellite outpost. The confrontation had lasted well into morning, and you had tossed and turned all night, sorely missing Negan’s presence beside you in bed. Still, it was obvious Negan had suffered more so than you, his heavy-lidded eyes betraying his exhaustion. He’d barely had the energy to go through the motions of showering, and his hair was still damp. Regardless of how much he might’ve wanted to fall into bed and sleep through the day, Negan had still come to find you first, though. You wouldn’t dare to say it, but the gesture meant more to you than you thought he could ever know.

“So, how did it go?” you queried, although you were certain you could guess the answer.

“Shit. Fucking pricks,” Negan answered, running a hand through his beard. “Assholes just couldn’t get it through their thick skulls that they didn’t know shit about shit.” He perked up suddenly. “Lucille had a good night, though. My dirty girl was thirsty. She was a vampire bat.”

“Oh my god.” You leaned forward, burying your face against his shoulder, trying to suppress a laugh. Instead, you groaned audibly; you weren’t about to encourage such a terrible joke.

“Fuck, is it really that bad? It wasn’t a big hit earlier, either, but I just chalked it up to the whole ‘I-just-beat-the-holy-hell-out-of-one-of-you-sorry-shits’ thing we had going on.”

Realization dawned on you as the circumstances of when he had made the joke before became clear. You gasped, lifting your head to stare at him, wide-eyed. “Oh my god,” you repeated. “Negan, you didn’t.”

He grinned. “Sure as shit did, sweetheart.” His expression changed to one of mock concern. “Are you trying to tell me dishing out a few quality puns might not have been fucking appropriate?”

“Quality?” you snorted. “Negan, the joke is…well, it’s just…”

You couldn’t help the smile that burst onto your face as inspiration struck. Negan seemed a bit taken aback by your sudden beaming grin, and he assessed you questioningly in spite of the smile that played on his own lips as a result of your infectious excitement.

“It’s really bat.”

Time seemed to slow for the moment that Negan furrowed his brow, trying to decipher what the fuck you had just said.

“It’s a bat joke? Instead of bad? Because Lucille is a vampire bat,” you clarified.

“No, no, I got the fucking joke,” Negan responded, seeming to choose his words methodically. “It’s just…that was really fucking terrible. I had no idea you were so fucking comedically impaired. Truly, I am doing you a damn service letting you know that that might be that worst fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“What?” you gasped. “You think ‘vampire bat’ is funny, but my joke isn’t?”

“No, I think it’s fucking lethal. I should bring you out on a run with me. Who the fuck needs guns and shit when you’ll be able to knock the fucking life out of a couple dozen biters trying to make them laugh? Hell, they might just up and keel over when your terrible sense of humor comes rolling the fuck up.”

“I’m hilarious and you know it,” you protested. “You just can’t see it because the lack of sleep is making you batty.”

This time, he responded with a groan. Seizing your waist, Negan lifted you and adjusted your position so that you were straddling him. You responded by wrapping your legs around his waist, locking yourself securely in position. “Oh, sweetheart, you are fucking lucky you are super fucking hot,” he teased, capturing your lips before you had a chance to protest.

Negan stood then, and with you still wrapped around him, headed towards the adjoining bedroom. “Let’s get some sleep, doll,” he said against your lips.

He carried you inside, gently laying you on the side of the bed with the covers already folded back. Negan pulled the sheets up around you before making quick work of his clothes, stripping down to his boxers, and climbing in beside you. He tucked you in close to his body, and you soon found yourself in the familiar comfort of the tangle of your limbs with his.

A moment passed, and you listened intently as his breathing began to even out. “Negan?” you mumbled softly, tentatively, not wanting to wake him.

“Yeah, doll?” he answered sleepily.

“Maybe after some rest you’ll wake up and realize my joke wasn’t that bat.”

Scoffing, he pulled you in closer. You thought he wasn’t going to respond as several moments passed and you both edged nearer to sleep, but just before you were finally lulled into slumber, Negan mumbled in your ear.

“Sweetheart, you can keeping fucking saying it, but it’s still going to be fucking terrible.”


End file.
